


Fancy Seeing You Here

by Thealmostrhetoricalquestion



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child - Thorne & Rowling
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Humor, Living Together, M/M, Post-Hogwarts, Potter Hair is Irresistible
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-24
Updated: 2018-09-24
Packaged: 2019-07-17 05:28:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16089014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thealmostrhetoricalquestion/pseuds/Thealmostrhetoricalquestion
Summary: Albus doesn’t get a chance to refute him like Scorpius knows he would, because Scorpius runs his hands along Albus’s scalp, fingers catching on curls and tugging them gently, feeling the soft fullness of his hair. He loves this, will never stop loving this, and Albus loves it too.





	Fancy Seeing You Here

**Author's Note:**

> a very hairy situation ;) Discord Chat peeps are at fault for showing me pictures of Noah and his poofy hair. Hope you enjoy!

Rampaging creatures aren’t uncommon in the Ministry Department where Scorpius works, but rampages involving wildly alarmed puffskeins and a Cackling Catherine Wheel are decidedly less so. Scorpius shudders as he puts his key in the front door. He can still hear the maniacal laughter of the firework as it spun around and around, spurring the herd of orange puffskeins into some heavy trampling action.

It’s been a very long day. He’s covered in fluff and his eyebrows feel singed, and he just wants to curl up next to Albus on the sofa with a drink and a pot noodle. His favourite part of the day is when Albus shuffles out of the bedroom in the evenings, warm and sleepy from a hot bath, wearing a worn hoodie and yawning, and they both sprawl on top of each other and rant quietly about their days. 

Scorpius knees open the front door, juggling his briefcase and coat as he stumbles into the flat. He blinks at the chaos - controlled chaos, at least, because it all seems to be concentrated on the sofa rather than the rest of the room. He puts his things down and tries not to laugh immediately when he looks a little bit closer. 

Albus blinks desperately at him from amidst a pile of kids. There’s a boy balanced on Albus’s shoulders, tugging with impatient fists at what used to be his hair, and is now a niffler hoard, if the amount of glinting is anything to go by. A little girl in a purple dress is holding a plastic yellow hairdryer and jabbering on directly in Albus’s ear, and there’s another kid behind them on the sofa, sprawled out, wielding a hairbrush in a threatening manner and lodging his foot quite firmly up Albus’s nose. 

The kids don't seem to care that he’s there, still chattering away and banging bits of plastic instruments against Albus’s skull. Scorpius bites his lip to keep his laughter from escaping, but his smile is telling. 

“Don't you _dare_ laugh,” Albus says, narrowing his eyes at Scorpius and wincing as his hair is tugged roughly again. The usual grumpy effect is sort of ruined by the pink ribbons streaming down past his ears. 

Scorpius has to shove both hands over his mouth and scurry into the kitchen. He laughs loudly when he’s in there, fiddling with the kettle and trying to decide whether or not to tell James about this. It seems like the sort of thing he should know, but he might wait, rather than wasting his ammunition early on. 

“Hello,” Albus says, dry as anything when Scorpius emerges from the kitchen with two cups of tea. “Fancy seeing you here.”

The scene hasn’t gotten any less funny in the last five minutes, and now there’s a mangled attempt at a plait running across the length of Albus’s head, held in place with butterfly clips. Scorpius has to detour to the bedroom rather than sticking around because he’s just going to keep laughing if he stays here. 

He grins to himself all through his shower, and he’s picking out one of Albus’s hoodies to wear when he hears the front door open and shut, sandwiching a chunk of conversation. 

“You can come out now, traitor!” Albus yells, sounding a bit petulant. Scorpius grins, yanking a soft, grey hoodie over his head and ducking into the living room. The hoodie smells like fabric softener, mostly, so Scorpius is going to have to get Albus to wear it at some point and then hide it from his weekly laundry trips. 

He finds Albus on the sofa, rather than in front of it this time. There’s a bit of a sulky look on his face, but he’s relaxed and Scorpius knows he’s fond of all the kids he babysits from time to time. Albus can never get angry at them, even when they do unspeakable things involving yoghurt, a fork and Albus's records - a sad day in the Potter-Malfoy household. Currently, Albus looks a little less fond of them than usual as he tries to coax one of the butterfly clips out from where it’s buried in his scalp.

“Let me tell you, though,” Albus says before Scorpius can do more than flop beside him, “I’m not ever relying on you for protection if we get caught in the wild, or we’re on the run or something. You’d just leave me to the wolves.”

“They were tiny children, Al,” Scorpius says, with an innocent grin. “Hardly ferocious beasts.”

Albus snorts, levelling him with a glare that softens when he meets Scorpius’s eyes. “You haven’t seen them when they’re hungry, or bored, or excited. Or feeling any emotion possible for a human being to feel, basically.”

“No, but I’ve seen James and Lily when they’re hungry, bored and excited, so I think I’ve got a pretty good idea what you mean.”

Albus’s mouth twitches, and then he abandons all pretence and grins. Scorpius has to lean over and kiss him, just has to. 

“Why'd you taste like chocolate?” Scorpius asks, murmuring the words against his mouth. His mind goes to the Christmas chocolates tucked inside the cupboard, supposedly out of sight, but when he draws back with a shrewd look, Albus surprises him. 

“We had chocolate spread on toast for tea,” he explains, shrugging. 

Scorpius flicks his ear, earning a wounded sound. “That’s not a meal.”

_“You_ have a pot noodle for tea, don't think I didn't notice.” Albus tugs at his hair with a frustrated sound, and then flops back, a sulky look on his face. “Help me with this.”

Scorpius makes an amused sound and shuffles forward, manhandling Albus into a more practical position, until his back is to Scorpius’s chest and they’re both lying comfortably along the sofa, legs stretched out and entwined. 

“Callum, the kid who broke my shoulders sitting on them, wants to be a hairdresser,” Albus explains, yawning slightly as Scorpius starts to unravel the ribbons and unclip the sparkly purple butterflies. “His parents don't really like the idea, I think because he's a boy, from what his sister was saying. His dad doesn’t say anything, but his mum gets this look and always changes the subject, and Callum won’t mention it in front of them anymore. But I don't want him to decide not to do it just because his parents are stupid.”

Scorpius tugs on a curl, earning himself a quiet grunt. He agrees, but it’s probably best that Albus doesn’t call his customers stupid. 

“I think it’s sweet, that you’re helping him,” Scorpius says, pulling the last clip free and flushing a little at the sound Albus makes when Scorpius finishes unravelling his plait, which looks a bit like a snake in a terrible disguise, waiting to strike. He clears his throat and makes his hands move again, softer and more curious this time. 

“I guess.” Albus shrugs one shoulder. “I just want him to be able to make his own choices, and there’s not much I can do, but I can show him there’s nothing wrong with wanting to be a hairdresser just because he’s a boy.”

Scorpius pauses, fingers buried in Albus’s curls, and then he leans forward a little and presses a tender kiss to the back of Albus’s neck. He doesn’t think Albus will ever stop surprising him with how much kindness is inside him, with how _good_ he is. Scorpius is waiting for the day when he can tell Albus that without either one of them combusting. The kiss lingers, and he doesn’t miss the way Albus’s breathing grows a little more shallow or the way the tension seeps out of him, pressing their bodies closer together. 

“Like I said,” Scorpius says, leaning back so he can continue his impromptu massage, “it’s sweet. You’re sweet.”

Albus doesn’t get a chance to refute him like Scorpius knows he would, because Scorpius runs his fingers along Albus’s scalp, catching on curls and tugging them gently, feeling the soft fullness of his hair. He loves this, will never stop loving this. He doesn't know if it's all Potter hair that drives people insane, but he knows there's just something about Albus's curls, dark and messy and a bit puffy, that makes him a bit crazy. There’s glitter there, which Albus will undoubtedly be pissed about later, and which Scorpius will conveniently forget the Charm for removing, but for now, it’s just about them, and the way Albus relaxes and breathes deeply. He’s always liked it when Scorpius plays with his hair, and Scorpius loves being able to touch it, to draw Albus into that sweet, hazy space with just a few gentle brushes. 

“You’re wearing my hoodie again,” Albus mumbles, reaching down to tug a little on the hem. “S’nice. I like when you wear my stuff and play with my hair.”

Scorpius feels like laughing again at the sleepy confession, but he doesn’t. He just keeps up the tender touches until Albus relaxes fully, dropping off to sleep, head tucked under his chin. Scorpius keeps playing with his hair, not wanting to stop just quite yet. It’s been a long day, after all. 

“I like it too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you! <3


End file.
